


To take what's offered

by yelp



Category: Fruits Basket
Genre: Alternate Universe - Selkie, Angst, Established Relationship, Insecurity, Multi, Practical Marriage, but with feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25675765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yelp/pseuds/yelp
Summary: "Don't you know what it means, when a shapeshifter gives you his skin?"
Relationships: Honda Tohru/Sohma Kyou/Sohma Momiji
Comments: 8
Kudos: 18
Collections: Just Married Exchange 2020





	1. Kyou

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kay_obsessive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kay_obsessive/gifts).



> I came across your fantastic prompt too late in the exchange to do it full justice, but your idea of a selkie AU wouldn't let me go until I wrote at least a short fill. Hope you enjoy!

When Kyou finally decided to give up his pelt, it wasn't because of trust, or love, or any of those soft things his teacher was always going on about. It was because he was _tired_ , plain and simple. 

Tired of searching for a different hiding spot every night, like a hollow in a dead tree, or a tidy burrow dug with his cat paws, then painstakingly covered by his soft, human hands. 

Tired of waking in a cold sweat long before sunrise. Untangling himself from Tohru's warm embrace, slipping out of her bed, breath held, to avoid waking her. Frantically digging for it under the moonlight, convinced that it wouldn't be there anymore, that this time someone would have found it—that _she_ would have found it, and hidden it, as humans do. 

Tired of hoping she _would_ find it, just so that he could stop dreading it so much. So that he'd finally be hers.

He was tired of being tired, and that's what decided it. One evening, he just wore it all the way to her home, instead of stopping to hide it some distance out and stumbling there on naked human feet. Left the forest in his cat form. Passed the grassy hills in his cat form. One last time, he reveled in it—the feline grace, the hair-trigger reflexes, the night laid bare to his senses—knowing it wouldn't be his again, not for a long while. Tohru was mortal, but she was also disgustingly healthy. Once she hid the pelt from him, there was no going back, not for her entire lifetime. Someday, she might slip up; they often did, in the stories. But Kyou caught himself thinking he might look away if she did, pretend he hadn't seen it, until she could better hide it again. Why make the choice now, only to unmake it later? That made no sense.

In the darkness, he crawled under the fence and the brambles, into her yard. Toyed with some of the voles he'd always spotted out her window, but never had a chance to hunt. Rolled around in her grass, and held communion with the moon. 

When he could put it off no longer, he shed his skin, emerging lanky-limbed, furless, delicate. His human form was bigger, but also clumsier, more vulnerable, stripped of his covering, his claws. 

Bundled up in his arms like this, the pelt felt small and insubstantial, a tiny burden. 

He carried it through her door, which she never locked, no matter how many times he nagged her. The front room was dark and empty, but the warmth and and coziness were ever present, even if the light, and Tohru, weren't. As always, it seemed to wrap him right up and invite him in, to sit, to stay. The scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen, and hurried his step. 

There were a shirt and pants waiting for him as usual, draped over the back of a chair. Tohru had never questioned why he needed these, only promptly started leaving them out when he'd asked. He was pretty sure she knew by now; some of the other Sohmas were prone to spilling secrets, and Tohru was more observant than she let on. But it wasn't something that they talked about.

Resolutely, he swapped these human pelts for his own, and tried not to stare at it hanging there, looking for all the world like his own cat form, limp and lifeless.

When he woke in the middle of the night, as usual, he forced himself to settle back down against her, tuck his face into the crook of her neck. His nose was cold, and she shivered, but didn't wake. He closed his eyes, and made his breathing even. This was what he'd traded his freedom for. 

Security. 

Tohru. 

A good night's rest. 

In the morning, the pelt was gone, but he had expected as much. A sick feeling rose within him, as he stared at the empty chair back where it had hung. This was what he wanted, he told himself, and unsteadily sat down.

Tohru bustled in from the next room, and for once it wasn't her smile that drew his gaze, but the bundle in her arms, a bright shock of orange against her white apron. Kyou's eyes snapped to it—she hadn't hidden it yet, there was still time—and the animal side of him started calculating how he could snatch it from her, even now. 

But that wasn't how this worked. 

Once it was given, it was gone. 

Tohru seemed to have missed that memo. She planted a soft kiss to his temple, and held the pelt out to him, chirping, "I cleaned it for you!"

True, the fur had been neatly groomed, practically glowing in her hands, which were red-knuckled from scrubbing. But none of the rest of it made sense. 

"There were burrs stuck all over it, and mud too. I brushed it all out, and gave it a wash. It's really beautiful, Kyou!"

"You... you stupid woman," Kyou hissed, and his ears would have flattened back against his skull, if they did that anymore.

Tohru flinched, a hurt expression pinching her face. Then she immediately started to gather herself, and Kyou hated it, hated that she'd had to learn how to deal with his anger like this. That wasn't what he wanted for her. _He_ wasn't what he wanted for her. 

"Don't you know what it means," he said, "when a shapeshifter gives you his skin?"

"But Kyou," Tohru's eyes were wide and earnest, as she tried again to hand it to him. "You never gave it to me."

Kyou's mouth fell open. In all the stories passed down through the Sohma clan, in all their tales of humans tricking and cajoling and seducing them for their skins, he was sure there had never been a story like this. 

"So... so stupid," he choked out eventually, but this time Tohru didn't seem intimidated at all. 

He couldn't figure out what had changed, until she softly brushed his cheek with her fingers, and they came away wet. 


	2. Tohru

This time Kyou didn't leave, not in the middle of the night, not even the next day, or the one after. Every time she woke up to see him still there, Tohru felt like the luckiest girl alive.

Once days turned into weeks, Tohru knew she could expect a visit from Momiji soon enough, and began to prepare. Out of all the Sohmas, sweet Momiji was always the one who came looking, when Kyou had been missing from their sprawling complex for too long. She had Kyou help her pound rice for mochi, and slice strawberries, and whip cream, and strangely he did it all fiercely, with utmost concentration, like he'd made a decision to settle into domestic life, and that meant he was going to put his entire being into it. 

He must have known who it was all for, too, but when she spotted Momiji coming up the garden path one morning, humming to himself, Kyou seemed to have made himself scarce. Puzzled, Tohru still put together the strawberry shortcakes, and set out a plate of mochi on the table. She was just tucking a napkin under his plate when Momiji burst into the kitchen. 

She took a moment to giggle at what a contrast he made to Kyou. Unlike the other shifter, who had always showed up with mud or bark under his fingernails, a hunted look in his eye, Momiji always carried his pelt with him, right out in the open. Today he had it tied over his shoulders, and the rabbit ears pointed down one side of his collar, like an elegantly knotted scarf. 

"Tohru!" he greeted her, plopping himself happily at the table. "How did you know I was coming?" He had a mouthful of mochi before she even managed to respond.

"I heard your stomach growling," she teased, and sat down across from him with her tea. She had been trying to figure what to tell him, and had decided on just the basics: Kyou had left his pelt with her, and had been staying with her since then, that kind of thing. But faced with Momiji's open, inviting smile, she couldn't seem to stop her anxieties from spilling out. 

"...and, when you told me about all this before, I thought that giving someone your pelt was... really special. Almost like a... a marriage proposal. But Kyou hasn't said anything about... that. What do you think it means?"

"Oh, Tohru." Momiji set down his fork, a shadow passing over his face. Even as a child, he'd always had a way of looking like he carried troubles beyond his years. Now that he had more years on him, the troubles only seemed to have grown with them. "Of course he wouldn't propose to you."

"I... see." Tohru leaned back, unsettled. Was there something wrong with her?

"Not because of you, of course. You're absolutely perfect, Tohru, I hope you know that." Sometimes it was hard to remember that Momiji wasn't a child anymore, but when he gave her that confident, charming grin, it was all too apparent. She went a little warm.

"So, why then? What do you mean, of course he wouldn't?"

Momiji was silent for a long time. He put a finger on the edge of his plate, and slowly spun it around on the table. "Because," he finally said, "he's already betrothed to someone else."

"What?" Tohru gasped. "I had no idea! Who is it? Oh, god, I'm a homewrecker, I can't believe it!"

At least that drew a tiny laugh out of Momiji, and some of the darkness fled from his gaze. "It's not like that, Tohru. It's... it's just me. I asked him a long, long time ago. Either he wanted to get an annoying brat off his back, or he thought he wouldn't get anything else, so he said yes." 

Tohru struggled to make sense of this. How had she missed it? Coming between the two of them was the last thing she would have wanted. "Do you have feelings for him?"

"I love Kyou," said Momiji easily. "I always have. But that's not why I asked. Kyou... There are a lot of unfair traditions, in our family. All the things that should be his, can't be, just because of who he is. You know what I'm saying, right, Tohru?"

"Because... he's the cat?" Every time she heard about how Kyou had been treated by his clan, she felt her heart break a little more. 

"His childhood home, in the Sohma complex. His teacher's dojo. None of it is his, because the cat can't inherit any of it." Momiji picked up his fork again, and fiddled with it. "But, as a full Sohma, I can."

"So you'll get married? So it can stay with him?"

"It's nothing that serious, Tohru!" Momiji laughed again. "I wouldn't make him marry me, not actually. As long as things stay like this, his property is safe. But..."

"If he marries me," Tohru realized. "A non-Sohma. He'd lose it all."

"Maybe not." About to finally take another bite of the cake, Momiji slowly set it back down, and drew a deep breath. "You're not a Sohma, Tohru, but I can make you one. And Kyou and I won't even have to break off our engagement either. If that's what you two want."

"Do you mean... all three of us?"

"It won't be any hardship for me," Momiji smiled wistfully. "I love Kyou, and like I said, I think you're perfect. It's the two of you that would have to deal with a third wheel. It's up to you whether you think it's worth it."

"Momiji—" Tohru began, but was interrupted by a crash from the stairs.

Kyou jumped up from where he'd fallen—Tohru always had the suspicion that it took him a while to get used to his human limbs again—and stalked into the kitchen, planting a hand on the table so he could lean right into Momiji's face.

"That. Is. Ridiculous," he snarled. "You're still hanging on to that betrothal nonsense?" He had his pelt in his other hand, in a strangling grip. He must have gotten it from the wardrobe upstairs, and run back down so fast he'd tripped.

"I wasn't sure if you remembered..." Momiji began, uncertainly.

"You think I'd hold you to some stupid promise like that? Made by a kid, to a monster he felt sorry for?" 

"That's not what he was saying—" Tohru began.

"And you!" Kyou spun on his heel. "I'm sorry I'm not a proper Sohma. I'm sorry I don't have cash and land to offer you. You should have taken the bunny's pelt instead. Why don't you two go ahead and get married? I'm out."

Kyou whipped the pelt around his shoulders, and it seemed to stretch over him, or he seemed to shrink into it, until there was only a cat in his place. The cat spun in place, like Tohru might shake her dough to settle it, and then leapt gracefully for the window. He was halfway out before Tohru could even reach out her hand. 

"If you really wanted to keep me," Kyou hissed, pausing on the sill, "you should have hidden my skin after all." 

And then he was gone, in an angry orange blur. 


	3. Momiji

"She doesn't understand anything, that woman," was the first thing Kyou said, when Momiji found him: an orange curl of misery, coat now grimy and slightly worse for wear, tucked into the hollow of an old tree. 

"How would she?" Momiji said. "She didn't grow up with us. She didn't go through what we did. What you did." He hopped over to the edge of the hole, and rested his head against the lip, letting his long ears droop behind him. Even Kyou couldn't resist bunny eyes, he just knew it. 

"She doesn't understand anything," Kyou repeated, and tucked his face more tightly into his belly. 

"Maybe that's for the best." Momiji climbed into the hole, and jammed himself against Kyou, fur to fur, nosing in under Kyou's head. "You could run off with her. Give up on the clan. Have a new life together, away from the family. Then she wouldn't have to understand."

Kyou was stiff as a rock, refusing to budge, to accept the cuddles that he surely needed. Exasperated, Momiji finally leaned back, and slipped right out of his skin. It was a tight fit in the hollow for a human, but he managed to sit up, and tucked the pelt onto his lap. Plucked Kyou off the ground, and set him on top of the fur. There was something to be said for having human hands after all; as much as Kyou squirmed and yowled, he couldn't fight it, and eventually settled down, bristling, under Momiji's palms. 

"You could have done that weeks ago," Momiji added. "As soon as you decided to trust her with your skin. I wouldn't hold you back. So why haven't you?"

When no response came, he crooked his fingers under Kyou's jaw, and began to scratch his neck. He had yet to meet a cat who could resist this, and even Kyou was no exception. Bit by bit, Kyou begrudgingly unstiffened, and stopped squirming.

For him, that was practically affectionate. 

"She didn't take it," Kyou said suddenly. "She didn't hide it, you know that? She just... washed it. And gave it back to me."

Momiji stopped what he was doing for a second, and then burst into laughter. There was a drawn out, offended silence from the cat in his lap, which only made him laugh harder. 

"That... sounds just like her," he managed finally, between wheezes, "That's exactly what she would do. She... she washed it!"

Kyou snorted, and sank his head back down. "It is, isn't it? Now she keeps it on a hanger, with my other clothes. Like it's just another coat I could put on if I wanted."

"It doesn't always have to be like the stories," Momiji said, after a beat. "All those tales they told us as kids, sometimes I think it was just to scare us, keep us away from humans."

"Those stories weren't wrong," said Kyou stubbornly. "People will trick you. They'll take advantage of you."

"But Tohru—"

"Tohru is just special," Kyou snapped.

Caught by surprise, Momiji stopped what he was doing, and Kyou huffed and began to bump Momiji's fingers, insistently, with his chin. 

"Yes, she is." Momiji started scratching again, shocked despite himself. "...she really is."

They sat like that, in familiar silence, until he started to feel the chill on his back, his bare shoulders, everywhere the warm cat on his lap wasn't. Humans had hands, which was useful, but not very much fur, which was a little silly, if you asked him.

"Let's go home," he said. 

Kyou's hackles rose immediately, as they always did, at the thought of the Sohma ancestral home. 

Momiji petted him some more, but the ruffled fur wouldn't smooth down until he explained, "I meant to Tohru's," and Kyou finally relaxed again.

"Let's go home to Tohru's."


End file.
